


…Bring me flowers… when you come

by svana_vrika



Category: Naruto
Genre: Clone Sex, Crack, Established Relationship, M/M, Mental Link
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 13:17:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6659644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/svana_vrika/pseuds/svana_vrika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Madara pushes the envelope a bit too far and Hashirama gets petulant and possessive</p>
            </blockquote>





	…Bring me flowers… when you come

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Caeseria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caeseria/gifts).



> **Disclaimer** This story is an original work of fan-fiction. Naruto and its characters, props and settings are the intellectual property of Masashi Kishimoto. I just borrowed the lot for a few thousand words of entertainment. No copyright infringements are intended, and I will make no profit from their use.
> 
>  **Warnings** Attempted crack and first try with this pairing. Inspired by a late-Friday night conversation involving wine on one end and Jack on the other. You’ve been warned.  >.>
> 
>  **Author’s notes** Happy birthday, Caeseria!

_”No. I’m on duty and you’re supposed to be-“_

_“Don’t tell me what I’m supposed to be doing,” Madara sneered, something dangerous flashing through his gaze “You may have been chosen to lead but that doesn’t mean I’ll be kowtowing to you like the rest of these fools. I know you, Hashirama. You’re the biggest fool amongst us.” Madara’s eyes and voice changed then, seduction darkening both. “It’s been near two days now,” he murmured, and he stepped closer. “Aren’t you missing it, too?” Hashirama swallowed but stood his ground, not that it mattered. His body was already reacting to Madara’s proximity and scent and Madara knew it. Hashirama would recognize the smug satisfaction that now rolled off the Uchiha from kilometers away. “Mm, never mind,” Madara purred in dark triumph and he dipped his head toward Hashirama’s neck, nose tracing a line up the tendon to Hashirama’s ear. “I can tell that you do.”_

_Hashirama swallowed again, resolutely, but then the heat of Madara’s breath washed over a certain spot and his eyes fluttered closed. “Fine,” he whispered through a suddenly dry mouth instead. “But we have to make it quick.” Madara grinned slowly, almost evilly, as he nodded and he tightly grabbed Hashirama’s hand; a shiver ran down Hashirama’s spine as Madara pulled him deeper into the forest._

“Hashirama-sama? Hashirama-sama!” 

Hashirama heard the strong, but discreet, hiss of his name, blinked the haze from his eyes, cleared his throat, and pretended that there was no flush to his cheeks, even as he silently gave thanks for the large wooden desk behind which he currently sat. He was fairly certain that nobody would be able to tell he was hard beneath the cumbersome robes he wore when he was in office, but that was beside the point. Madara was dead, regardless. Though not before Hashirama fucked him first. 

_”Here,” Madara all-but-growled as he finally came to a stop. They were well away from any of the posts, the detritus lay thick on the forest floor; Hashirama’s eyes lidded slightly as he watched Madara loosen his _kusazuri_ and let it drop to the ground. “Thought you said we had to hurry,” Madara mocked when he realized that Hashirama was staring; Hashirama nodded and then started to work on his own. “Don’t.” Hashirama looked up and the hunger in Madara’s eyes dried his mouth again. “I just want your dick, nothing more. I’m too annoyed with you right now to take any more from you than that,” he scoffed before turning his back resolutely, dropping his pants and then going to the ground. Hashirama wanted to ask why, but the sight of that ass pushed up in offering just for him drove the question from him; eyes gleaming with a hunger that rivaled Madara’s now, he unfastened his trousers, went to his knees and parted Madara’s cheeks._

“Hashirama-sama??”

Hashirama shot the near-frantic aide to his left a quick, apologetic look and then pasted on a bright grin. “Right!” he declared as he shifted his gaze forward, and he brought a large hand down enthusiastically onto the surface of the desk. “As you know-“ Hashirama swallowed back a groan as Madara’s taste permeated his senses. He swore he could feel Madara’s taut hole against his tongue, and then spasming around the muscle as he pushed it in. Hashirama shifted in his chair, doing his best to ignore the ache between his legs—which he quickly brought together in an attempt to discourage his dick from further reacting to the phantom sensation of slowly pushing into Madara’s ass.

 _Harder, you fool. You know I can take it!_

Hashirama’s fingers curled lightly against the wood. Madara was _so_ fucking dead. This was an important meeting: the first family outside of the Uchiha or Senju, or those previously affiliated with the two heads, had petitioned for Konohagakure citizenship- had risked leaving their own country on the rocky shores of the ocean and traversing the war-torn lands in between because they’d heard rumor of the peace and protection the two great clans were offering to those within Konoha’s midst. Their own clan had been small to begin with and had dwindled down to this single family, the young mother tearful to the point where Hashirama’s eyes stung, the boy of a father trying desperately to be brave, the infant son swaddled and sleeping soundly, completely unaware of the dangers he’d faced or what his parents had risked to change his fate. And there he was, on the verge of announcing the council’s decision with a leaking hard-on and Madara rushing toward orgasm in his head. ‘ _Oh gods…_ ’ 

“Hashirama-sama…”

This time, it was Tobirama’s voice and the icy warning with which it was laced was enough to quell the fire coursing through his veins. “Namikaze-san,” Hashirama said aloud on its heels, pretending he couldn’t see the confusion that painted the young man’s face, “The counsel of Konohagakure has considered your petition and, in exchange for your sworn allegiance to the village and oath to enrich Our knowledge of taijutsu, ninjutsu and genjutsu with your own, We will welcome and protect you as Konoha c—itizens.” 

_’Damn it!’_ Madara had just come, and with that low, groaning, growling sound that always sent a jolt down Hashirama’s spine. Hashirama could see him: flushed face pressed to his discarded _kusazuri_ , the curve of his spine, lips parted for breath, that long, gorgeous hair a mess all around him. Hashirama could _feel_ him: the thick silk as his hand tightened in Madara’s tresses, the chill of Madara’s sweat as it mingled with his own, the tight spasm of Madara’s ass as Hashirama continued to pound deep and hard into him… Hashirama blinked at that and then his mouth formed a soft ‘O’. He just hoped that-

Hashirama’s eyes briefly closed as the sensation of orgasm tore through him, an oddly exquisite combination of pleasure and pain that intensified the ache in his groin. _Too late…_

_”Hashirama!!!”_

Hashirama winced as the shout tore through his head, but then Madara vanished completely and he opened his eyes again. The quickly forced smile became softer and genuine when he noted the utter joy and relief that now painted the Namikaze’s faces; his announcement must have been enough to keep them from noting his further distraction, thank the gods! “Welcome home,” he warmly said, pointedly ignoring the way Tobirama’s eyes were fixed on him; how they seemed to bore into his forehead. He could only imagine what was going on in Tobi’s mind but really didn’t want to hear it. He loved his brother, but Tobi could be an awful stick-in-the-mud. Especially when it came to Madara. Hashirama suppressed a shudder as he imagined what Tobi’s reaction would be were he to ever find out what had distracted him. 

A lightbulb went off in Hashirama’s head then; smile widening, he locked gazed with his brother. His teeth flashed slightly when he realized that he’d totally caught Tobirama off guard; he loved it when that happened if only for its rarity. “Tobirama, if you would, please escort Namikaze-san and his family to the transient shelter for the night and then let Sasuke know to expect Namikaze-san in the morning.” He looked back to the youth with the golden shock of hair and smiled again. “Yes, Sarutobi Sasuke,” he confirmed, not surprised that the tales of Sasuke’s prowess were so far-reaching. Slightly younger than Tobirama, Sasuke’s physical strength was second only to his own, his intelligence comparative to Tobirama’s, and his mastery of fire jutsu was on par with the most elite of the Uchiha clan. “He is assisting with land assignment in between his other duties.” 

Hashirama looked back to his brother then. “Thank you, Tobirama, for your assistance,” he said brightly—and quickly, having noticed the slight parting of Tobirama’s lips. “I would see to it myself, but I have another matter to tend to.” A smile and a nod went to the Namikaze and, now totally avoiding Tobirama’s eyes again, Hashirama stood and bee-lined for the door. He had no doubt he’d be grilled for his behavior later and his eyes narrowed as he stalked down the hall and through the exit. He hated when Tobirama lectured and was mad with him and Madara would pay for that, too. A smirk suddenly showed. Then again, Hashirama had a feeling Madara was already regretting his actions. 

As Hashirama neared the edge of the small village, he slowed and closed his eyes, extending his chakra toward the direction in which Madara had dragged off the clone. Two O’clock and just far enough from the patrol lines to where they wouldn’t be detected; Madara was still there. And still on his hands and knees, Hashirama would bet. He also knew that Madara would have picked up on the chakra probe, but Hashirama didn’t bother increasing his pace. Madara deserved the extra frustration, and besides, he really was too much fun when he got so irate. Hashirama’s eyes softly gleamed as he crossed into the wood. It completely shattered that cold and arrogant Uchiha shell that Madara nourished and hid behind, much in the same way fucking Madara did. As a matter of fact, the former had led into the latter their first time; rough and bloody in the rain and the mud, Madara so sweetly broken and vulnerable after… “Damn,” Hashirama softly swore and, then, he did pick up his pace. He was hard again and there was only one way he knew he’d be rid of it this time. 

Hashirama walked for another 300 or so meters and then slowed to a stop and simply stared. Madara was indeed still on the ground as Hashirama had suspected, pants still pooled around his knees—and he was bearing a glare that might have frightened even Hashirama had he not been so aroused. The reason why Madara hadn’t moved since Hashirama’s clone had dissipated was as obvious as the near-hatred that currently gleamed through Madara’s eyes and Hashirama had to slap a hand over his mouth to silence his snicker—though he couldn’t hide the laughter that rose to mingle with the need in his gaze. “Madara, Madara,” he finally dropped his hand to tsk, voice low and accompanied with a chuckle. Hashirama slowly stalked toward him, pausing to run a gentle finger over the Sakura bloom that adorned the slender sapling that had sprouted from Madara’s ass after the clone had come. His eyes gleamed again as he saw the brief twist in Madara’s features that resulted from the slight vibration from the touch, and he dropped his hand, took a leggy step forward and crouched by the other man. “I told you an age ago that I’d never let anyone have you but me, ne?” 

“Fuck you!” Madara spat, and Hashirama chuckled—darkly this time. Madara’s eyes went round as he watched the Sage markings come out on Hashirama’s face. 

“Be a bit difficult for you at the moment, don’t you think?” Hashirama casually asked, a flick of his fingers sending a quiver through the sapling, and his dick throbbed as he watched Madara’s lips softly part and that powerful body writhe with the increase in diameter. “But there is something else you could do for me,” he murmured, shifting from his crouch to his knees and moving his robe out of the way to get to his fly. 

“Like he—“ Madara choked on the last of the word and his hands fisted against the ground as, this time, Hashirama sent the supple wood deeper into his tunnel. 

“You’re in no position to argue with me, Uchiha,” Hashirama warned, voice tinged with anger. “You knew about the meeting with that family; of its importance to our village. You knew Tobirama would be there, know about the connection I have with my clones, not to mention how I get when it comes to you. And you _still_ manipulated one of them into—“ 

“Oh, please!” Madara scoffed. “Manipulated. You ‘saw’ just how hard I had to twist his arm to get him to acquiesce. If it hadn’t been something you wanted the clone never would have said yes.” 

“That’s not the point!” Hashirama declared hotly, albeit a bit petulantly, because he knew that Madara had, indeed, made one. His pout deepened and, for a moment, his head dropped forward. “Fine,” he muttered, idly poking at the groundcover. “You’re right about the clone.” His head snapped up then and he pinned Madara with a fierce look. “But jeopardizing my reputation and now Tobi’s good and pissed—my want and the clone’s easy acquiescence doesn’t excuse your wrongful actions, Uchiha Madara,” he firmly declared, and his eyes narrowing, he fed a bit more energy to the sapling; licked his lower lip as he again watched Madara squirm. “Incorrigible,” he murmured with a shake of his head. “Even now you’re goading me into ‘punishing’ you further so that you can continue to reap pleasure through my pain. Again, fine.” Hashirama got to his feet and straightened. “I’ll leave you to it then.” Ignoring his raging erection and the near-overwhelming desire to stay, Hashirama took a few steps away, paused and glanced over his shoulder. “Pity when, with just a bit of patience, you could have had the real thing,” he said casually before continuing on his way. 

“Hashirama!!” 

Hashirama smirked and simply kept moving. Madara wouldn’t shout out again; he was too proud to risk anyone coming to investigate the ruckus. He sighed then and shook his head, wondering if Madara would ever learn, and then he softly chuckled. Somehow, he doubted it. Madara had been vying for the upper hand ever since they’d been boys. But, while Hashirama would admit that, even now, Madara could still beat him in a few certain skills, he’d always been the one who had come out on top. 

Hashirama’s smile saddened some as, at the edge of the village, he stopped and, with a rapid set of hand signs, reversed the jutsu and withered the sapling that had sprouted from Madara’s ass before someone noted his absence and went looking for him. The difference lay in what drove them; love and compassion versus love and revenge and, as the Sage markings faded away, Hashirama wondered if Madara would even be able to see the yang of love through the red of retribution that stained his eyes. Tobirama didn't think so. Tobi thought Hashirama a fool for putting any hope—or effort—into Madara at all. But that didn't matter. Hashirama would love and protect Madara to the end just as he would the village they'd founded together. Even if, right now, Hashirama did want to kill him just a little bit. He was, after all, still hard, and he knew it would be a good couple of days, at least, before Madara would stop sulking and come to him. And he still had Tobirama to deal with on top of that. _’Damn.’_

After a moment's consideration, Hashirama turned down the street that would lead him to central command. Just the thought of his brother’s lecturing had him already going soft anyway, and Hashirama pouted and petulantly kicked at a stone that lay in his way. “This sucks. I hate you Madara,” he muttered, half-wishing now that he’d left the damned sapling where it had been.


End file.
